*blows party horn* *shoots confetti cannon* Ahhh…Happy New Year, dearest Filthy Dreams readers! Get ready for that champagne hangover after battling the hoards of amateur drinkers on these final days of 2019! …or 2020. What year is it? Did we have a year? Or is this still some cold sweat alcohol-poisoning fever dream after choking … Continue reading
“Oh, fuck you! Those are heirlooms. My family heirlooms!” Wild-eyed and bunny-eared with her Appalachian drawl, Amy Adams’ Bev Vance delivers those lines with the pathos and conviction of a woman who just lost her cherished, long held inherited treasures, passed down from generation to generation of country folk. What are these heirlooms of which … Continue reading
Dildo madness. If I had to sum up the past four years in two words, that would be it. Or maybe it’s completely unfair to categorize four years of viral grifts, racism, xenophobia, pussy-grabbing, Sharpie-huffing, COVID-infecting, manic-tweeting, Big Mac-engorging, Fox News-binging in relation to something that provides pleasure. However, madness seems on point. Yes, of … Continue reading
Young man! Did you ever imagine that “Y.M.C.A.,” that beloved cheesy endorsement of cruising bathing boy beauties at a health spa full of “everything for a young man to enjoy,” would be the chosen soundtrack to the insidious creep of fascism in the United States? Did you ever believe that the Village People, that iconic … Continue reading
Have we lost camp forever to the Trump administration and the Republicans? I know what you’re thinking, surely that can’t be! Camp is ours– the outsiders, the marginalized, the queers, the weirdoes, the outcasts! That’s our aesthetic and they can’t have it! Well, I’ve got some bad news. There was no way to witness the … Continue reading
Is there anything more beautiful than the dual glee and panic of a boxy silhouette of tapered jeans and blinding billowing Technicolor sweaters hurtling down a supermarket aisle as if shot from a cannon in search of a specially marked bottle of Tide? Is there anything more inspiring than a blur of Dep shellacked and … Continue reading
A brick appears in his hand as if by magic. This corn-fed white cis straight-passing Ken doll in a torn Gap T-shirt fresh off the bus from Indiana looks down, realizing that history has its eyes on him–not the gender-nonconforming street kids of color he just met and whose brick he just swiped. No, this … Continue reading
Well, hello there, dearest Filthy Dreams readers! What’s that? You’re bored after ten-ish weeks of quarantine? Is that how long it’s been?!!! What month is it? I thought it was still March! Or May! Or November! And I know. I know. It’s just so difficult to be in lockdown, sheltering in place, staying at home, … Continue reading
A long needle, syringes, gauze and other medical equipment lie strewn on a blood-splattered table. An X-ray of a hip joint. A photograph of an unidentifiable piece of flesh covered in bruises and needle pricks. These were the disturbing images that flickered by after I cautiously committed to watching Madonna’s Instagram stories earlier this week. … Continue reading
What is it about Los Angeles that inspires madness? Is it the consistently, unchanging beautiful weather? The constant void of those clear blue skies that would make André Gide sigh? Those palm trees perpetually swaying in the ocean breeze? The respiratory system-suffocating smog? Is it the Manson in the air? Or is it the ever-present … Continue reading
